"NYA-HA-HOW-OW-OW!" Papyrus rolled into a sitting position on the field, clutching at his left boot. A floating number indicated that he had taken quite a few points off his total HP.

Frisk instantly stopped playing and ran to their friend. They signed, Do you need help?

"The Great Papyrus usually laughs at danger," said the mighty skeleton through gritted teeth. "But gopher holes are not funny."

I know who can help, signed Frisk, and with their typical carefree attitude, picked up Papyrus in their arms and ran for Mama Toriel.

Monsters are made of dust and magic, and are often lighter than they look. Skeleton monsters are doubly so. But it was still a surprise to all involved to see a small child carrying an adult-sized skeleton monster to the watching spectators at a full run.

Mama Toriel was already ready with her healing magic. Just as Dunkle Sans seemed to appear nearby as if by teleportation.

"BRO!" It was the first and only time that anyone had heard Sans use capitals.

"Worry not, dear brother," cheered Papyrus. It was a thin veneer of happiness that barely covered the pain and distress underneath. "'Tis but a flesh wound."

"You have a sprain," diagnosed Toriel. "And a minor crack." She flooded Papyrus with green fire bullets. "There. Good as new. But I do advise that you sit this round out." Already, mole monsters were filling in the hole in the field, and searching for any others.

Frisk picked him up again and gently deposited him in one of the vacant camping chairs.

"You are stronger than you look, Human," said Papyrus. "Of course you made a worthy foe. And an even better friend."